A Tale of Four Brothers: Part 2
by WishfulWriting
Summary: This is a continuation of a story I wrote several years ago. That summary still applies: This story begins when Jack first meets the Mercer family, but his old past won't let him go just yet. It's about Jack trying to learn to have a normal life, figuring out what normal is, and the Mercers learning to live with him. Main characters are Bobby and Jack.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

To be completely honest, I hadn't considered writing another Four Brothers fic in a long time. I first wrote one (A Tale of Four Brothers) in 2005 and few other stories followed. It's still incredible to me that such a movie has created such a fanbase and encouraged writers like me to explore the characters. It's not even a favorite movie of mine yet the characters (Bobby and Jack) really captured me. Recently, I noticed that the movie was on Netflix, and I started to think about the characters once more and the different world I enjoyed creating when I wrote these stories. A few years back I considered doing a sequel to "A Tale" and so here we are... Comments/encouragement are welcomed, and will definitely help me to continue writing. Hopefully some people out there remember the first story - this one will take place immediately after the events of that one.

**Chapter 1**

Evelyn wondered if Jack's first week at the Mercer house would ever not haunt her. While some fear and anxiety over a new family and a new home were expected, the other events that had taken place were unprecedented. It was hard for her to remove the events from the foremost part of her memory, never mind move past it. Then again, it had only been a week since it all took place.

Her first goal, and the one thing she had hoped would be the easiest to provide Jack in her home, was a sense of safety and peace of mind. She couldn't help but already feel guilty that she had failed him in a way. Difficult cases were not out of the ordinary for Evelyn; in fact, they often seemed to be attracted to her. But for a kidnapping to take place from her own home... That only left a heavy sadness and sense of failure in her chest.

You're safe here. That's what she told all of her boys. Well, how could she prove it now?

It had been a freak incident. Poor management at the office, mishandled confidential information, and a persistent pervert who had previously escaped the iron fist of the law.

Had the system really failed? Had she failed? She had worked so hard with all of her boys, and for this to happen with the latest, most vulnerable one was disappointing.

The system wasn't perfect. Of course not. It pained Evelyn to think that a gentle, sweet boy like Jack not only had the misfortune to be born into his particular family, but then had been unlucky still to experience poor subsequent placements once he was finally removed from that home.

"What are you thinking about?"

The sudden sound of Bobby's voice made her turn, and it brought her back to the sinkful of dishes that were neglected during her heavy thoughts.

"Bobby," she sighed, glancing briefly at the running water in front of her. She turned the faucet off before returning her eyes to him. "You startled me."

"You didn't even notice me walk in." Bobby leaned against the refrigerator, holding a soda in his hand. "What's on your mind?"

"Oh, nothing much, honey." She shook her head. "Just these dishes. You boys produce quite the volume recently..."

"That's not the only thing on your mind."

She smiled. "Right now it actually is, Bobby..."

"Well, they don't have to get done tonight," Bobby said. He hesitated, and then slowly asked, "You want me to do 'em?"

Evelyn smiled at the reluctant tone in his voice. The offer was genuine, but she could tell it was not on his list of favorable things to do at the moment. "You're sweet to offer, honey. But no. You're right. They don't have to get done tonight."

Bobby eyed his mother thoughtfully. "C'mon, Ma. What else is it?" He paused. "And admit it - there is something else. You can smile and say the dishes, but I can tell."

Of course he could tell. Evelyn was always impressed by that. Despite his brawny, tough exterior, and as much as he wouldn't want to admit it, Bobby was also incredibly thoughtful and insightful. She could always see right through his tough guy act. She just had to remind him what else he had to offer sometimes.

"Why do you think that?" she asked.

"How about the fact you were staring at running water for the last five minutes while I was standing here?" he responded sarcastically. "C'mon, tell me... Did one of those knuckleheads do something? Give me a name, and they'll never do it again."

She laughed. "For once, no, Bobby. I have to admit... It's actually been quite an uneventful day, for once. Can't say that very often."

Bobby let out a chuckle. "Especially not recently..."

"No... Not recently," she agreed. Her tone changed slightly.

Bobby watched her frown. He immediately knew. "Is that what you're thinking about?"

"Is it possible not to?" She took a deep breath. "It's only been a week... But I have to follow my own advice. No matter how much you think about it, or how hard you wish-"

"You can't change the past, you can only move forward," Bobby finished.

"Exactly." She paused. She gave him a gentle smile. "See- you do listen."

Bobby tried to think of the right words to say next. It was difficult since the same topic had been eating at him as well. "If it didn't happen that week, we would have been thinking about it, wondering if and when he would come out of the woodwork. This way, we know that he's done."

"Well, we'll see what 'done' means, Bobby. I have to call the lawyer tomorrow. I haven't even heard back about the details they took from Jack. The statement he wrote. If I don't push the legal team-" She shook her head. "It's been a week, and I want to know when his court date is. Or what the charges will be at least. If they've made it that far."

"Who cares about the court date? He's as good as dead to me."

"Bobby. Patience. Things like this have a procedure." Evelyn hesitated. Why was the system failing them on her mind again? "Where is Jack?"

"I told him to go to bed." Bobby glanced at the clock on wall. It was ten-thirty. "Like a half hour ago. Why are you thinking about this stuff now?"

"Has he mentioned any of it to you again?"

"Not really," Bobby admitted. "He's been quiet." He rubbed his hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble of a couple days without shaving. "I told him that Kevin is in prison for a long time."

"Bobby, be careful," she chastised gently. "I know it's easier to say that, but we need to see what actually happens."

"Well, how could he not be?"

"Because as we already know, what makes sense doesn't always happen." She realized her tone was slightly stiff, the result of her week of self-doubt and retrospection, and paused. "But enough about this now. It's late. I'm going to leave these for tomorrow," she gestured at the dishes, "and finish some paperwork before I turn in. It's a busy day tomorrow.."

Bobby eyed her carefully. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Ma."

She shook her head. "I'm not. Neither should you. We knew this would be a difficult case."

"I didn't know," Bobby objected with a laugh. "I thought this was just another typical project-" he cut himself off as he caught her look. "I mean, typical charity case."

"Stop that..." She gave him a reproachful look. "We knew it would be difficult. Just not this difficult. Speaking of, can you please check on him before you go to sleep?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

"Thanks. Good night, Bobby."

"Night, Ma." He walked towards her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

As he headed across the family room towards the stairs, he considered whether he should have pushed her to talk. There was something more on her mind, he could tell, and as usual she was masking her emotions and keeping an even disposition. That woman was good at many things, and acting like everything was fine for their benefit was one of them.

He knew what had happened to Jack was bothering her just like it was him. Occasionally, in his mind he replayed how they could have prevented all of it. He came up with false realities of how he could have heard an intruder, or predicted it was going to happen, or something.

Anything.

He knew she was thinking similarly.

As he reached the top of the stairs, his mind still on Evelyn, he noticed Jack's door was open and the light was on. Was the kid still up? He glanced at Angel's door and found it closed. He was pretty certain that Angel was at Sofi's so he wasn't too concerned. He walked over to softly knock at Angel's door, and upon no response opened the door, only to confirm that no one was inside. Typical.

Jerry he knew for a fact was with Camille. Another 'typical'.

Bobby walked over to Jack's room, remaining for a moment in the doorway. At first glance he found it empty. Spotless as well. Unlike his brothers, Jack moved about the house quietly, like he didn't want to leave a single clue that he had been there. It was the opposite of the other brothers in the house, whom Evelyn fondly referred to as 'bulls in a China closet'. On the other end of the spectrum, anything Jack moved was placed back with tedious care. His room was evidence of this- it didn't even look lived in. At least he had finally unpacked...

Bobby knocked gently on the open door, announcing his presence. The room remained still and painfully quiet.

Where the hell was he?

He walked into the room, slowly looking right and left. Jack's quiet nature led him to easily go unnoticed. He silently disappeared and reappeared. The disappearing was something Bobby didn't quite know how to correct without become too authoritative with the kid. While he had only been with them for a short time, Jack's tendency to wander off or hide was a frustrating reality.

He eyed the window, shut and locked. The infamous window.

He walked over to look outside for a minute, staring into the nighttime darkness with a sigh. It brought back more thoughts of that night. The sudden protectiveness he felt over this child he had only met a week before. The panic to find Jack and the sinking hollow feeling at the pit of his stomach that something bad might happen...

He turned away from the window before his thoughts took over him. That was when he saw the small bare foot peeking out from under the bed.

He shook his head and walked slowly towards the bed. Crouching down, he reached for the child-sized toes and touched them gently. He had barely made contact when the foot quickly shot out of sight, disappearing under the bed.

"Jack," Bobby began. "What the hell are you doing?"

There was no response.

"C'mon. You think I don't know you're under there?" Communicating with this one could be difficult, and even with the consolation that this was all new to both of them, Bobby frequently found himself on the border of annoyance and amusement.

He was certainly learning the art of patience.

After another moment with no response, Bobby sighed. He moved from his crouch to awkwardly lay on the floor, peering under the bed. He eyed the small, blonde kid with a smirk. There he was, lying flat on his belly under the bed like it was the natural place to be.

"Jackie," Bobby repeated. Blue eyes blinked back at him briefly before glancing away. "You hiding from something?"

"No," Jack responded softly. He stared ahead of him, at the wall.

"Come out," Bobby insisted, gesturing at him to come. "It's probably filthy under there." Surprisingly, it didn't even appear dusty, but the excuse sounded reasonable.

"No..." Jack shifted back a little further under the bed.

"I thought you went to bed."

"I did."

"This ain't **in** bed. This is under the bed."

Jack remained silent. He stared off at something. But what?

"What are you doing under there anyway?" Bobby persisted. He turned his head to look behind him for a minute, glancing around the room. Nothing was amiss. So what was he hiding from? He turned his head back to look under the bed again. "Ma asked me to check on you. She wants you in bed." He reached his hand out.

"I am." Jack shifted even further back towards the wall, out of reach. He now looked at Bobby again, his eyes filled with trepidation. "Don't."

Bobby studied him. He was at least dressed for bed. The jeans and shirt he previously wore that day had been replaced by sweatpants and a t-shirt. He realized he had seen this same t-shirt four times already over the past week and wondered when Evelyn would take him shopping. There were some boxes of old clothes that would probably fit him in the attic as well.

"You make no fucking sense sometimes, you know that?" Bobby muttered. "No playing around. Get in bed, alright?"

"I don't want to sleep in the bed," Jack answered.

"Why?"

"Why can't I sleep here?" Jack responded.

"Sleep under the bed?" Bobby frowned. "Why would you wanna do that?"

"Why not?"

Bobby took a deep breath and reminded himself how reasoning with someone Jack's age could be a … challenge. "Because that's not comfortable, and doesn't seem... healthy," he answered. "What's wrong with the bed?" His neck was starting to hurt, looking under the bed at this angle.

No response.

"Jack. Come on..." Bobby persisted. He watched the kid stifle a yawn and realized he was exhausted. If there was one thing he already knew about Jack, it was that despite his timidness, he was stubborn when he wanted to be. He had also learned enough about Jack in the last couple of weeks to know that his instinct to pull back the bed and drag him out would get him nothing but a panicked, squirming child and a tongue lashing from Ma. "You know what? That's fine. Sleep there. Call me crazy, but I prefer a mattress."

Bobby pushed himself back to his feet. He was too tired himself to present any convincing arguments. Bobby couldn't think of a single good response for why sleeping under the bed wasn't a good idea, other than it seeming ridiculous and uncomfortable. Those were not reasons enough for an eleven year old. He would learn himself after one night why it was a stupid idea.

He had just flipped off the light in the room on his exit when he heard Jack's cry.

"Bobby!"

He turned back to face the dark room, feeling as startled as the voice. "What?"

There was a heavy pause of silence, and then a timid voice in the dark spoke. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

Jack hesitated. "Don't... Don't turn it off."

"The light?" Bobby paused. "Why?" Was the kid afraid of the dark? Since when? The light had always been off when he slept.

"I want it on," Jack said, his voice slightly muffled from beneath the bed.

"But why?"

"Because it needs to be on."

Bobby had never been scared of the dark, and couldn't understand it. "For fuck's sake, Jackie." He leaned in the doorway. "Don't be a baby, alright? What are you afraid of? A monster in the closet? I mean, if there's a boogeyman under your bed - well, then smart choice to sleep in his territory, right?"

"I need to see him coming," came Jack's response, his voice frustrated.

"Who?" Bobby waited, but there was no response. "Jack?" With a sigh, he kept the light off. "Look, if you won't talk, then I won't understand, remember? You need to use words. There are no monsters or anything like that. Mercers don't believe in that garbage, okay? Go to sleep."

He gave him a moment but wasn't surprised when Jack didn't answer once again. "Okay, good night."

Bobby left the room but waited just a few feet away from the door, suspicious. He wasn't surprised to hear movement inside the room a moment later and the soft footsteps in the dark.

He remained a step from the door, hidden from view, until the lights inside turned back on.

Jack's hands had just left the lightswitch when he noticed Bobby was back in the doorway. He looked up at him, startled, like he was caught in the act of doing something wrong. The fearful glint in his eye was as though he had just committed a heinous crime, not simply turned on the light.

"Jack," Bobby started.

Just as his name left the older man's lips, Jack quickly reached out to flip the light switch off again.

In seconds, Bobby caught Jack's arm before he could disappear on him again. "Hey," he began. Jack tried to wriggle his arm away but Bobby held tight. "Calm down..." he tried to soothe. "Come on." The light remained on. "I just wanna talk to you."

"No. Let go," Jack objected. He pulled against the grip and started to sink to the floor.

"What's the matter?" Bobby persisted, grunting as Jack pulled against him. "Listen for a minute." He kept a grip on Jack's forearm as he remained resistant, trying to twist away. "Jack." What was with this kid?

"You said I could sleep there," Jack objected, voice strained.

"You can," Bobby agreed. He eyed the kid on the floor, pulling away futilely, but kept his grip. Jack's face was growing slightly red with the exerted effort to pull away. "You're gonna hurt yourself, you know."

"Let go," Jack insisted. He winced as he pushed at Bobby irritably. "Bobby..." the name came out as a whimper.

As Bobby noticed the still not completely faded bruises on Jack's arm, he acquiesced and let go. He watched the kid on the floor in front of him carefully, waiting for him to try to run away, but for once, he just sat there, as though he'd given up, taking deep breaths.

After Bobby had been the one to find Jack - hell, even rescue him- after he was taken from Evelyn's home, he had earned himself some affection from Jack. It was mostly clinginess, for better or for worse. In his mind he remembered the moment he had found him at the hotel, and the way that Jack had rushed to him with relief and clung to him. He was underfoot the next few days, following Bobby like he was afraid to be alone, quiet but persistent. A few times he had come to him with his nightmares, and Bobby felt a strange sense of pride that he was somehow able to help the kid. But that quickly faded over the following week, and most currently Jack had reverted back into his tactile-resistant shell stage once again, constantly fidgeting, flinching at quick movements, resistent to open up...

Patience, Bobby reminded himself.

"Why do you fight me, Jack?" he asked. "I only wanted to talk to you."

"I need the light on," Jack said. He had pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Fine. For what?"

"I already told you. To see him. If he comes."

"Who's he?" Bobby grew exasperated.

Jack hesitated.

"Who, Jack?" Bobby persisted, his tone stiff. The quick check of whether the kid was in bed was becoming a much more tiring ordeal than he had expected.

"Kevin," Jack whispered.

Bobby felt a coldness wash over him.

Kevin?

He was afraid of Kevin returning.

Bobby suddenly felt like an asshole for tricking Jack out from under the bed. The fact he assumed the behaviour was over childish nonsense instead of a true, core issue bothered him. Of course Jack was more complicated than that. Of course he had just been forcibly removed from this room only a week ago and was still afraid.

Fuck you, Bobby, he thought. Are you that dense?

He dropped to his haunches, bringing himself to the same level as the kid, albeit a couple feet away. "Jack," he began. "That's ridiculous. Kevin is in jail."

Jack looked up at him, eyes skeptical and somewhat more jaded than someone his age should be. "That's not what Angel says."

Bobby blinked. "Angel?"

"You told me that he was in jail," Jack admitted, his voice soft, almost a whisper. "But Angel told me that's not true. He said he's free. And that maybe," he looked towards the window, "he might come back."

"Angel said what?"

"If he comes back, I need to see him. If it's dark, I won't know and it will happen again."

For a moment, Bobby wanted to scoop the kid up into his arms and give him a hug, promise him that it would never happen again. But he knew if he did that, Jack would freak out, so he kept the space between them.

"He's not coming back," Bobby said. "It's safe here."

"How come Angel said he might?"

"I..." Bobby didn't know. He felt his blood pressure start to rise. Don't show the kid, he urged himself. Don't show him that you're getting angry... It's not at him... "But you think I lied to you or something?"

"I..." Jack looked caught off guard by the question. "I don't know. Did you?"

"No. Of course not." Bobby answered, a little more harshly than he intended.

Jack's eyes dropped to the floor. He swallowed, and then started to rock back and forth very slowly, barely noticeable. Bobby noticed his chin quivering.

"Look at me," Bobby directed. When Jack shook his head, he fought his instinct to repeat himself. He knew the kid wouldn't look up. "Listen, that's not going to happen... I don't know why Angel told you that... It isn't true. But you should already know that Angel's an instigator. You understand?"

Jack stayed silent. He didn't know what an instigator was. The movie Terminator crossed his mind. Was Angel a terminator?

"Why's his name Angel?" Jack asked.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ. I ask myself that every fucking day."

Jack frowned, feeling utterly confused.

Bobby's watched Jack's face. The kid still looked down at the carpet like it was the most interesting thing in the room. He considered talking more, trying to get Jack to tell him more about what he was afraid of. It would be futile though. He knew that would require more time than this moment nearing eleven o'clock at night. He made a decision.

"At least take a pillow," he said.

Jack looked up at that, cocking his head to the side with a questioning frown.

"For under the bed," Bobby explained. "You might as well be comfortable." He rose to his feet and walked over to the bed, picking up the blue-cased pillow lying on top of an untouched comforter. He dropped it on the floor and nudged it under the bed with his foot. "There."

Jack continued to look at him uneasily. He hugged his knees tighter to his chest.

"I'm going to bed," Bobby continued. "l'll leave the light on. But don't you believe anything Angel put in your head, you hear me?" He eyed the skeptical face of Jack. "Understand?"

Jack shrugged.

Bobby walked towards the door and sighed. "Good night, buddy. You know where I am if you need me."

He knew Jack wouldn't respond and left the room. He walked back down the hall and clenched his fists.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: **

Thank you to everyone who has left feedback! It's immensely encouraging! I sometimes have to remind myself of some of the details from the first story I wrote and then again remember some of the stories I had ideas for in terms of continuation. So I really appreciate those of you that enjoyed the first story and are here for more after these years. Any suggestions or ideas are also welcome. I'm trying to write in advance and hope to update about once a week since I have a lot of plans for the story. But please let me know your honest thoughts!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Bobby felt far from well-rested the next morning. Evelyn's time-tested recommendation to not go to bed angry was ringing true to him as he pulled himself out of bed, feeling lethargic and cloudy. Not sleeping well took a toll on him, and that night he had tossed and turned for well over an hour, feeling a mix of frustration and anger building over what Angel had said.

He was struggling to understand Angel's intentions. Was it simply teasing? It couldn't be. This was more than teasing. Not only were Angel's words simply lies, but they were also a complete contradiction of the reassurance that Bobby had tried to give Jack. At the root of his anger was exactly that - he was being made out as a liar as well.

Bobby now thought about the uneasy look he'd noticed in Jack's eyes and wondered if the kid trusted anybody.

Earning Jack's trust was a difficult enough task. To have unnecessary situations like this made it increasingly daunting.

Why did they have to take steps backwards?

Teasing was a well practiced routine in the Mercer household. But not like this. Bobby himself was the king of teasing, but never to instill fear or mistrust. The point of this family was the opposite. Being part of this family meant that you were protected.

Bobby yawned deeply and tried to rid himself of feelings for a little while longer until he fully woke up. He headed to the kitchen, not bothering to change from his sweatpants and undershirt, deciding food or at least a change of scenery would help.

Jerry was the first person he saw as he entered the kitchen. The tall teenager was sitting at the table, leaning over a bowl of cereal with a spoon dangling in his hand.

"Good morning," Bobby managed as he walked into the kitchen tiredly.

"Hey," Jerry responded back with a mouthful of cereal. "You kinda look like shit."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Well, good fucking morning to you too. I thought you were at Camille's."

"I was. She had to go to work."

Bobby glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. Evelyn would definitely be at work already as well. He looked back at Jerry. "And did your dickhead of a brother come home yet?"

Jerry's expression grew amused. "Angel? I thought he was your dickhead brother," he responded sarcastically. "Why? What'd he do now?"

"What didn't he do?" Bobby immediately felt his temper begin to rise again. Why did Angel have to drive him crazy? It was like he went out of his way recently to cause problems. Deciding coffee could help him relax, Bobby walked across the kitchen.

Jerry sensed the edge in Bobby's tone and frowned skeptically. Was this wrong side of the bed Bobby or something else? He watched the rather rough way that Bobby pulled the container of coffee from the cabinets and decided something had happened. "Why're you pissed at him?" he asked cautiously.

Bobby glanced at Jerry briefly, wondering if he should share the details. Bobby knew the moment he started to talk about it, the anger would come back to him like floodgates opening. At the same time, Jerry could be pretty rational... Despite being younger, and still in his teens, Jerry sometimes had the soundest sense out of all of them. Maybe he could even say something to calm him down.

Probably not this time, Bobby thought wryly as he poured spooned grinds into the filter of the machine.

"Did he get in a fight again?" Jerry asked.

"No." Bobby shook his head.

"Then what?"

"He's being difficult."

"Difficult?"

"With Jack." Bobby took the glass coffee carafe to the sink to fill it with water. "And it's pissing me off."

"Difficult how?"

"It's like he's going out of his way to try to scare the hell out of the kid."

Jerry smirked. "Bobby, come on. It doesn't seem like it would take that much."

"This is different," Bobby responded stiffly.

Different how? Jerry wanted to ask. Bobby was different with Jack. He was strangely protective of this little stranger that had entered their lives. He was almost... caring. Almost gentle. Jerry was initially surprised when Evelyn had wanted Bobby home when introducing the kid to their lives. Having Bobby in the house could add another level of chaoticness and attitude to the house. Bobby was rough, he was loud, and while he respected every word that came out of Evelyn's mouth, he also did what he wanted. But this time, Bobby was different. The tone in Bobby's voice now was exactly the difference.

"So he's teasing him or something?" Jerry asked. "I want to remind you that you've been torturing us over the last ten years, so..." Bobby's 'big brother' mentality was the definition of mean at times.

Bobby brought the water back to the coffee machine and poured slowly. "Teasing is one thing," he said. "But this kid's been here for just a couple weeks. And considering what happened to him with that fucking pathetic excuse for a human being, Angel could cut him some slack."

Jerry watched Bobby critically, sensing his brother's increasing sense of agitation and frustration. There was something about this new kid Jack that had brought out a whole different side of Bobby. Sure, Bobby was protective of all of his brothers. But this was different. For whatever reason, whether it was Jack's age, or his background, or maybe something Bobby felt a sympathy with, the man had begun to act differently. More defensively. Suddenly Jerry realized that his usually spontaneous early twenty-something brother almost seemed... adult.

"I get it," Jerry began. "I'm sure Angel didn't mean it like that." Jerry suddenly felt bad for Angel, observing the look on Bobby's face. Dealing with Bobby's wrath was never fun. Angel was only a little younger than Jerry, but often seemed to be involved in much more trouble.

"Yeah, whatever," Bobby mumbled as he turned on the coffee machine. "Some of you better grow the fuck up."

Jerry watched Bobby carefully. "So what are you going to say to him?"

"Say?" Bobby echoed. "I almost hope for Angel's sake that I don't see him today. If that gives you any indication."

* * *

Jack sat on his bed, holding a guitar in his lap. He strummed the strings carefully, glancing up at the door to the bedroom cautiously when the instrument's sound filled the air. The house was pretty silent that morning, and he almost expected someone to come tell him to be quiet.

It wasn't a new guitar; in fact, it looked like it had been around awhile, with some scratches here and there and some chipped paint. But to Jack it was new and it was his. It was the only present he could remember getting in a long time.

He wasn't sure why he had gotten a present. It almost felt like a trick. After all, the events that led to the guitar in the first place would normally have rewarded him with nothing more than some well-placed slaps in another home. The only way Bobby had even learned about his interest in guitars was because he had secretly left the house that day and wandered off. That day he remembered Bobby being very angry. And yet, for some reason, eventually after that and everything else that had happened, he still asked his friend Danny for this old, discarded guitar for him.

He strummed the strings of the guitar gently again, a jumble of thoughts passing through his mind. He hadn't been part of the Mercer household for very long, but he already felt like there had been only trouble. What if they changed their minds?

He wasn't sure how it worked exactly, but he did know that at any minute there could be the phone call from Anthony, his social worker, telling him that it was time to move on somewhere else. After over a year of moving around, it was pretty clear that none of these homes ever actually wanted him there. What would be the exception here? Someone had already broken into this house because of him. That had never happened before.

He could already hear Anthony's annoyed, frustrated voice, asking him why he couldn't have just worked things out, made his job easy. He would threaten to send him back to one of the previous homes, claiming to have no choice. Then most likely he would end up back at the group home until they could figure something out.

And if Kevin might come back... Maybe they would have to do that. Maybe he couldn't stay here if Kevin knew where he was.

He eyes trailed over to the window cautiously. This home was better than the others he had spent the last year being shuffled through. He had his own room. They had been nice so far. Though other families had also seemed nice in the beginning, only for him to later learn that it had been a facade. A facade that would eventually, usually rapidly, fade.

Sometimes he would think of the other places that he lived, but then he found his thoughts beginning to spiral out of control. Sometimes he was afraid that he was mixing up events, mixing up truth.

Suddenly he thought about his mother. Or tried to. The memories he had were scrambled. Disorganized. He struggled now sometimes to remember her face. He tried to but he saw other faces. He remembered what she had done. How she... died. As he tried to get a clearer picture in his head, he started to feel worried. Maybe he didn't remember her anymore.

"Jack."

Startled at the interruption to his thoughts, he looked up sharply and saw that Bobby stood in front of him now, eyes questioning. Jack's fingers tightened around the edge of the guitar protectively, as though it would be taken from him if he let it loose.

"Jack, you hear me?" Bobby asked.

What did he want?

"I don't remember her face," Jack said quickly. He looked down at the guitar strings and noticed a particularly deep scratch near the sound hole. He rubbed his finger at it nervously.

"Whose face?" Bobby asked.

Jack blinked. Had he really said that out loud? "No one," he mumbled.

Bobby paused but didn't then seem to think twice about it. "So you like this old guitar?" he asked, moving a step forward and reaching for it.

Jack pulled it closer to him, eyeing Bobby cautiously. "I thought it was mine."

"It is," Bobby laughed. He watched Jack with amusement for a moment. "Trust me. It's yours. No one else in this house would know the first thing about what to do with it." He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Listen. I need to shower. But then we have some things to do today. Did you eat?"

"No."

"Jer will fix you something. You hungry?"

"No."

"Go downstairs and eat something. Then we'll-"

"Bobby!" came Jerry's voice from downstairs.

Bobby's eyes glanced towards the door almost in exasperation. He turned back to Jack. "Listen. Go eat something. I'm going to see what he wants and then shower. Got it?"

Jack looked up briefly and met Bobby's gaze before returning his eyes to the guitar. "Okay."

"Good." Bobby took one more look at Jack, wanting to say more, but not knowing how, and headed back towards downstairs. As he walked down each step, he thought about how once again Jack's room was immaculate. No sign of sleeping below the bed, on the bed, or anywhere.

And whose face couldn't he remember?

This kid added more layers to his mystery with ever conversation.

As he reached the first floor, he saw Jerry standing at the front door, which was slightly ajar. He frowned as he approached.

Jerry turned and met his eye. "Someone's looking for you, Bobby," he said.

Bobby frowned. He hadn't even heard the doorbell or a knock since going upstairs. "Who?" he whispered.

Jerry shrugged and stepped out of the way for Bobby to open the door.

Bobby stared at the man outside on their front doorstep, a stranger to him. The man appeared to be in his thirties, well dressed with a polo shirt and jeans. Bobby gave him a suspicious look. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"Are you Robert Mercer?" the man asked in response.

"So what if I am?" Bobby responded. "Who are you?"

The man smiled and held out a legal sized envelope. "This is for you, Mr. Mercer." He paused. "You've just been served."

"Served?" Bobby echoed incredulously. "What the fuck for?"

"You can read the details inside," the man responded. "You're being sued by a Mr. Kevin Harris. That's all the information that I have. Have a good day."

Before Bobby could respond, the man was already walking away, towards a car parked in front of the house.

Bobby stared at the envelope in his hands, stunned. "Hey!" Bobby called after the man.

There was no response from the man as he reached his car and Bobby knew it was pointless to follow him. He quickly ripped open the envelope in his hand. He pulled out a few pages from inside and started to read them, but the language blurred together.

He stepped back inside and slammed the door closed behind him. Looking up, he found Jerry in front of him. Without thinking, he reached out and gave him a quick shove.

"Who the hell taught you to open the door to pricks like that, Jer?" Bobby demanded.

Jerry stumbled back a couple steps and looked caught off guard. "Hey," he objected. "How the hell was I supposed to know?"

Of course he didn't know. He couldn't be mad at Jerry.

"Fuck," Bobby muttered, staring again at the letter in his hand. He would need Evelyn for this. He didn't understand a single word when it came to these legal documents, but he could only imagine. He started to think about his altercation with Kevin Harris back at the hotel when he found out Jack was there. When he found out it was Kevin who had taken him.

That fucking asshole, he thought. The scum piece of trash that Jack had finally been freed from. He's the lousy excuse for a human being, yet when I lose my temper because of what he did and push him around, now I'm the bad guy?

"What is this, anyway?" Jerry asked, taking the paper out of Bobby's hands.

"It's a mess," Bobby began. He suddenly looked up at the stairs behind them and saw Jack there, more than halfway to the first floor. However, the moment he met his eye, the kid turned and darted back up the stairs in a flash.

"A fucking mess," Bobby repeated.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Thanks again to everyone who has left feedback so far. It's extremely appreciated and encouraging. Life has been extremely busy for me the last couple of weeks and I was out of town for part of it, so I haven't been able to write as much as I hoped. Chapters going forward plan to be more robust!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Jerry's eyes lingered briefly on the stairs. He had just noticed Jack there seconds before the kid ran back upstairs with rushed steps. He glanced at the papers in his hands, briefly skimming over the words on the first page, before returning his gaze to Bobby. The man's expression had darkened.

"Chill out," Angel started, cautiously. He noticed Bobby's clenched fists. "You scared him." And you're starting to scare me, he thought. He was afraid to ask again what was going on. 'A fucking mess', had been Bobby's first answer. It meant he probably wasn't going to be too eloquent in his explanation. Jerry looked down at the papers again and noticed the court name and address in the top corner of the page. As he tried to figure out what had just happened, he started to feel slightly guilty. But how was he supposed to know the knock at the door was something like this? Now Bobby, who had already started off the day in a bad mood, looked like he was ready to fight the world.

"I scared him?" Bobby responded incredulously. He gave Jerry a look. "What the hell did I do?"

"You're yelling, for one," Jerry responded.

"I'm not," Bobby answered forcefully. He glanced up the stairs again, as though considering whether to follow Jack.

"You are," Jerry answered. "Stop."

Bobby's eyes returned to his brother. "I'm not yelling," he said again, this time with less curtness. "But I mean, what the fuck? Who the hell hands someone a letter like that and says 'you're served'? And why the hell did you let him in?"

"He didn't come in." Bobby's irritation made Jerry feel slightly affronted. He hadn't done anything wrong. He refused to feel bad. After all, it wasn't his fault. Besides, if Bobby was being served for something, then it was probably Bobby's own fault in some way or another. The man wasn't perfect, as much as he tried to pretend he was. And it wasn't exactly the first time Bobby had a letter with a court's name on it addressed to him either.

"Didn't come inside, maybe." Bobby remained persistent. "But you answered the door."

"I can't answer the door now?" Jerry shook his head. "That's actually how it works." Jerry frowned. "What'd you do to that guy when you found him anyway?"

"Not enough," Bobby muttered. He clenched his fists again. "Fuck. If I'd known I'd get in trouble for it anyway, I shoulda just beat the shit out of him."

"Sounds like you did... You should know how this stuff works anyway. It's not like it's your first time being arrested," Jerry pointed out. He met Bobby's eye and raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you the expert at this?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bobby scowled. "This ain't exactly like being arrested, bro. You see handcuffs?"

Jerry's eyes scanned the document, turning to the second page. "It sounds like he's suing you for a assault... And he wants some kind of compensation for damages..."

"Damages?"

"That's what it says."

"What kind of damages?"

"I don't know..." Jerry turned to the third page and then started to shake his head. "Yo, listen, Bobby, I don't know... This is like reading Greek." He shook his head and handed the papers back to the older man. "I've got no idea. You've gotta ask Ma."

Bobby held the papers distastefully in one hand and rubbed his other hand along his jaw, letting out a deep breath. "Things just get more and more complicated... Ma's gonna love this..." He rolled his eyes. "Not even a month I'm in town and I'm gonna have the fuzz breathin' down my neck."

Jerry studied him carefully. "Well, then why'd you attack him?"

"I didn't 'attack' him," Bobby said stiffly.

"You hit him, didn't you?" Jerry watched Bobby's face. "And did you start it?"

Bobby folded the papers in half irritably and didn't answer right away. Jerry was right. Of course Jerry was right. When did this little punk suddenly become the calm, collected one that knew what the hell was going on? It bothered Bobby that his younger, teenaged brother was giving him this look, like he blamed Bobby for the situation. "Look, Jer. The asshole had it coming... You weren't there."

"Who was? Were there witnesses?"

"Why?" Bobby briefly thought of Jenna. The old friend that happened to be working as a receptionist at the cheap motel that the man had taken Jack. Who was fortunate enough to ask Jack the right questions and recognize the name Mercer...

"Because it matters. They usually look for someone else to give an unbiased account of what happened."

"Unbiased account? What the hell, Jer? Are you my lawyer now or something?"

Bobby's tone made Jerry decided to step away from the situation. "You know what? I'm just trying to help... You don't wanna talk about it, then fine." He began to walk back to the living room. "Be a dick then. In fact, I'm sure there's security camera footage or whatever else that will fuck you over anyway."

"Hey," Bobby objected. For a moment the thought of security camera footage flashed in the back of his mind. Was there? And was there anything he should be concerned about? That whole experience was almost a blur in his mind. He sighed as he watched Jerry walk away. "Jerry," he started. "Come on." He paused. "Look, I got Angel to deal with. I got the kid upstairs to deal with. I've got this." He waved the paper in front of him. "Don't fucking give me a hard time too."

Jerry turned and made a face. "Me? How exactly am I giving you a hard time?"

Bobby paused and closed his eyes briefly. "Okay... Fine. You're not," he admitted. "I'm just getting myself angry over all of this." He shook his head.

"Yeah, well as you know, you kind of take it out on everyone else."

Bobby acknowledged the bitterness in Jerry's voice. "I'm sorry, man," he managed, taking a couple steps towards him. "Listen to me. I've been home just a couple weeks and there's just... a lot going on..."

"There's always a lot going on."

"There doesn't have to be. Jack's new, so there's that. And his mess. But can't you guys at least give Ma a break?" Bobby caught Jerry's look and hesitated. "Well, you," he started, "that's one thing. You're almost acting grown nowadays. But Angel on the other hand? Man, that one's gonna self combust. Or I'm gonna have to beat the shit out of him first."

"Bobby."

"I'm serious. What's going on with him? I'm home for just a couple days before he's asking me for money, admitting to hustling people again when I really confront him about it. He's-"

"Stop, Bobby." Jerry eyed him. "You haven't been around."

"I have been around." Bobby paused. He wanted the words to sound true, but he knew once they left his mouth that the statement wasn't entirely honest. Before Evelyn had called him to passionately ramble on about the new child she was taking in and to express to him how much it would mean to her if he came home for a while, his visits had been somewhat infrequent. He called, and once in a while dropped in for a day or two, a week at the most, but... he hadn't been around like he should be. He chalked up part of it to a recent but now defunct relationship with an in hindsight terrible woman, but that was barely an excuse. And not something he was going to share.

"You haven't really," Jerry responded. "Not in a while."

"So what? I'm around now. What does that have to do with it anyway? He only has his act together if I'm here?" As he watched Jerry shrug he wondered if it was true. "Doesn't Ma know what he's up to?"

"He's careful around her. And... You know." Jerry hesitated and then just shook his head. "Ma's busy. And it's not like it's public kind of trouble..."

She was too busy. Bobby knew that. Ma already had too much going on before all this happened. Before taking in another kid. All while still devoting her time as a social worker and volunteer. Most women her age would begin slowing down, enjoying life, doing things for themselves. Not Evelyn. She seemed to take on more and more each day.

The paper in his hand suddenly felt like dead weight. Another problem for Ma to deal with. Bobby suddenly felt terrible. He was supposed to be a help around here. Isn't that why she had asked him to come home for a while? Be some kind of example? Instead he was adding to the problems.

"So what are you gonna do about that?" Jerry gestured to the papers, as if reading his mind.

Bobby didn't know. He sighed and looked back at Jerry. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've got to think about it... And... I've got to talk to Ma." For the first time in a while, he felt like he actually really needed to rely on somebody else. It wasn't a good feeling. He was twenty-four years old. Independent. Why didn't it feel that way?

The sound of the phone ringing from the kitchen interrupted before anymore could be spoken, and the two exchanged a look.

"I'm not getting it." Jerry shrugged. "Answer the door, what do I get? Sure as hell not gonna answer the phone now."

Bobby gave him a look and then rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen. He dropped the papers on the counter as he entered the room and walked over to reach for the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bobby," Evelyn's voice came over the line. "How is everything?"

Bobby paused, frozen for a moment. It was as if the woman just knew something was going on or something. He frowned for a minute, thinking to himself that maybe she knew. Maybe someone had contacted her. Or maybe, as usual, it was her sixth sense.

"Hello?" her voice came through the line again.

"Hi, Ma," he answered. "I'm here."

"Oh, good. Everything okay with you and the boys?"

Bobby paused again. "Fine," he said slowly. In his mind he considered the lie, thinking on one hand of the juvenile delinquent that needed an ass kicking and on the other hand of the younger kid who now slept under his bed in fear. Sure, everything was fine. Those facts could be kept quiet until an undecided later time. Over the phone was never a good time to have conversations like that, he'd learned over time.

"Good," she answered. "For once maybe a normal day." She paused, and he heard a lot of office noise behind her. "Listen, Bobby. I need you to do a few big favors for me today."

"A few?" Bobby leaned back against the counter with a silent sigh, preparing himself. Is this what he was home for now? Babysitting and favors? "Okay. Like what?"

"It's really for Jack," Evelyn continued. "And I can't believe I haven't done this yet, because it's already early August, but you need to take him to the elementary school and drop off some documents for me."

"What?" Bobby objected. "Today?"

"Well, he has to continue school in the fall, Bobby. And to do that I need to make sure he's registered. All the paperwork has been done but you need to drop off a few things. It's Friday and I don't want to miss another week, understand? I just want to get this done."

"I get it."

"I have the folder with everything ready so it's just a quick thing today. And it's your old school too, so-"

"I hated that school," Bobby pointed out.

"Honey," she objected with a slight laugh. "Come on. No, you didn't."

"My memory says otherwise. Jack's gonna hate it too."

"Bobby, I'm quite sure it's been a number of years since you've even stepped foot in that school. I think you will be pretty impressed with some of the upgrades they've made."

"What, like now the bathrooms all work and then gym has more than three hockey sticks? And unless they upgraded the personalities over there, then-"

"Bobby," she cut him off with a warning tone. "Are you talking or listening?"

He inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Fine. So the kid has to go to school. I guess it's the law. What documents?"

"Everything is in my file cabinet in my bedroom," she began. "You remember the code to the lock?"

"Yes." Bobby remembered it clearly. He knew he was one of the only, if not the only, other person that knew the code. In the past he wondered why something like a file cabinet, with no items of any seeming worth, would be locked; now, even just a little older and wiser, he somewhat understood.

"Everything's in the folder that's closest to you when you open the drawer. It has copies of his birth certificate. His transcripts. And his immunization record." She paused. "They just need these copies.

"I just tell them I need to register him?" Bobby asked. "Will they let me?"

"Yes, Bobby. I already told them that -" she cut off abruptly. Then she said, "Hold on." He heard muffled voices behind the line, and realized as he commonly did how stressful his mother's job really was. All of these conversations had to do with some troubled child after all. Her voice came back with, "Are you there?"

"Yes."

"They're expecting the documents. You won't have an issue. Okay?"

It was one of the few times Evelyn's voice had a hint of anything but patience. He heard more voices behind her, as though trying to get her attention. "Yes. I'll manage," he responded.

"Thank you, Bobby. Really. I know it's hard on you, but you know I appreciate it. I've got to go." With that there was a click and the line disconnected.

He hung up the phone and looked up to find Jerry standing in the doorway. "Is it bad that I'm starting to feel like a live-in nanny?" he asked. As Jerry smirked, he continued. "I'm starting to think Ma asked me to come home for a while not because she wanted to see me, but because I'm free labor."

"Free room and board," Jerry reminded.

"Well, we'll see how long until I lose my mind," Bobby answered with a sigh.

* * *

In Evelyn's bedroom, Bobby opened the file cabinet lock with ease, the combination code clear in his memory.

As he pulled the top drawer open, his eyes skimmed over the row of folders, filled with histories, details, and secrets. There were stories in this file cabinet that would draw some people to pull out pages to read like they would a trashy magazine. Despite being trusted with the contents of these drawers himself, Bobby had little desire to ever open any of these folders. He knew most of the stories. He knew his own was there. Angel's. Jerry's. A handful of others along the way. Now Jack's. With the years he had been under Evelyn's wing, he had experienced a number of newcomers, and had been close enough to their stories without having to read anymore about it.

The 'folder closest to you', Evelyn had said. Bobby smirked now at his mother's instructions, as the folder was clearly labelled with Jack's name.

He pulled out the folder gently, removing it from the drawer before walking over to sit on Evelyn's quilt covered bed. He opened the folder carefully, noting that it seemed more full than it should be for an eleven year old.

There were a series of papers firmly paper-clipped together at the top. The post-it on the first page of these clearly said 'school registration'. He wondered at his mother's knack for organization as he put those pages aside. He was about the close the folder when the next page caught his eye. It was a biography of sorts. He saw Jack's name, date of birth, parent names. Except only one parent name, Jacqueline Resaud. Maybe Jack was named after his mother, he considered. The father was listed as unknown.

He skimmed over the rest of the page and realized Evelyn had given him the majority of the details already. Jacqueline Resaud was diagnosed posthumously with schizophrenia and anxiety disorder. Jack was seven when she had killed herself.

What Evelyn hadn't mentioned was that Jack had been a witness to this.

Bobby paused. That would have been only... four years ago? Did Jack remember? Four years ago to Bobby felt like yesterday, but to Jack that was more than a third of his life already.

What did four years feel like for an eleven year old?

He hesitated with the rest of the page. While perhaps not fully educated of it, Bobby was well enough aware of the events that had taken place after Jack's mother's suicide. Kevin was a disgusting piece of it, while never charged with anything more than being an unfit parent. Before that was determined, enough time had passed to cause damage.

Bobby noticed the legality in most of the descriptions of events. 'Suspected', and 'alleged', or 'presumed' were often used.

He turned to the next few pages and realized there were photographs and more descriptions of documented events.

Disgusted, he closed the folder abruptly and pushed himself up from the bed. He grabbed the 'school registration' pages and moved to return the rest of the folder to the top drawer. He pushed the drawer shut to lock forcefully.

Why'd you even look? he asked himself. You knew what was there. What'd you expect to see?

He eyed the rest of the drawers in front of him. All of them with secrets. Nightmares.

He wondered why Evelyn kept them in the same room that she slept.

He wondered why people couldn't shut drawers in their memories as easily.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Bobby and Jack remained in the car for a couple minutes after Bobby parked at the curb in front of the elementary school. A moment of silence passed between them while the radio filled the void.

Bobby gazed at the school with a frown, a mixture of memories passing through his mind. Some were great, like the moments he remembered thinking he knew more than all the people that worked there, and some were less than stellar.

Jack eyed the building apathetically. It didn't look any different than any other schools.

"Do you like school?" Bobby asked after a minute passed.

Jack let the question go unanswered at first, mostly because he didn't know how to respond. While it was a simple question, so were most on the surface. Answers were never as simple as the questions.

And besides, the Rolling Stones were currently on the radio, and why would anyone have a conversation during that? He listened to the guitar riffs quietly.

"Jack."

Sometimes when you didn't respond, the questions just went away, Jack recalled. Especially when you didn't make eye contact.

"C'mon, Jack. Do you like school?"

It didn't seem to work with Bobby. A moment later the man turned the key in the ignition, turning the car off. The radio remained on with the auxiliary power.

Jack glanced at him briefly and then back at the school building. Did anyone like school? "This one?"

Bobby smirked. "This one you don't know. But in general." He paused as Jack turned away again to look out the window. "Probably not, right? Who does? Nerds I guess." With that, Bobby opened the car door on the driver side, and the radio went dead.

Jack felt a sense of disappointment as the music disappeared.

There was now nothing filling that void.

He glanced back towards Bobby but the man was already out of the car, pushing the door shut behind him.

He sighed. A heavy feeling suddenly filled his chest. Alone in the car at that moment, he suddenly felt the world shift around him.

Outside the car, Bobby stood on the curb, waiting for Jack to join him. There was no movement from the car. He let roughly twenty seconds pass before he grew frustrated. "What's with this kid?" he muttered under his breath.

He took a step towards the passenger door and reached out for the handle. He pulled the car door open, and Jack looked up at him with a startled look.

"There's a reason I parked here, brainiac," Bobby told him. "Come on. Get out. We're going inside." That's when he realized he had left the folder of papers he needed on the back seat. He mumbled a curse and stepped over to open the back door.

"It shouldn't take long," he said as he reached in across the seat to where the folder sat. He grabbed it and moved back to shut the back door once again.

Still quiet, Jack had at least exited the car. He now shut the passenger door, looking once again at the school.

"It's a good school," Bobby assured as they started to walk. "Kids are nice." After the words left his mouth, he shook his head. How would you know? he asked himself. You haven't even stepped into this school in what, ten years? But what was he supposed to say?

"Do you smoke?" Jack asked suddenly.

Bobby glanced at him in surprise, but Jack was looking right ahead of where they were walking. "What kinda question is that?" he answered. "And no. You've been here a couple weeks now. Have you seen me smoke?"

"No," Jack admitted.

"Though I've caught you trying it a few times." Bobby rolled his eyes. "I've tried it myself. Not for me."

Jack didn't answer right away. They were just reaching the door of the school when he said, "You didn't lock the car."

"If someone wants to steal that piece of shit from in front of a school, then let 'em," Bobby answered. He opened the door to the school and let Jack walk in first.

A wave of nostalgia passed over him. The hallways were different - now painted mint green instead of that puke orange that they were years ago. The floors looked a little bit more beaten up, but that was understandable.

"How many kids go here?" Jack asked. He glanced at Bobby and noticed the way the man was studying the hall in front of them.

"Don't know exactly," Bobby said slowly. "It's average sized, I guess."

Jack didn't know what averaged sized meant, but he didn't ask.

"I think the administrative office was up that hall on the right," Bobby began, starting to walk again.

Jack begrudgingly followed him. He supposed school was one of these necessary evils. All kids had to go. All schools were more or less the same, he figured. You had your crowds. He hoped he could stay part of the invisible crowd here. His last school had many places to silently disappear into. He had a feeling he was going to miss that.

They turned down a hallway to the right when Bobby suddenly slowed down, approaching a display case built into the cinder block wall. There were shelves of medals and pictures. He let out an amused chuckle. "Wow, it's still here."

"What?" Jack asked.

Bobby gestured towards one of the shelves. "That's me."

Jack glanced at the shelves skeptically. It was too high for him to see what Bobby was looking at. When he looked back at the man, he realized that he was reaching for him and took an abrupt step back. "Stop," he objected instinctively.

Bobby's hands dropped to his side and he looked at Jack patiently. "Can I show you?"

"No."

Bobby made a face. "Why not?"

"Don't." Jack took another step back.

Bobby let out an exasperated breath and looked away for a minute, down the hall. The school was so quiet in the summer. He looked back at Jack and explained. "My baseball team won state two years in a row when I was a junior and a senior. There's a picture of the team and the trophy on the top shelf, still there. I was going to show you."

Jack eyed the display case suspiciously.

"You think I'm trying to trick you or something?" Bobby began. He shook his head. "Fine. Forget it." He started to walk away, turning his back to the case and to Jack.

Jack paused and glanced at the shelf again. "I want to see it."

Bobby stopped at the voice. He turned, eyeing Jack skeptically. "Now you want to see it?"

Jack nodded.

"Okay," Bobby replied. He tucked the folder of papers under his arm and walked back towards Jack. He immediately noticed that the kid visibly stiffened as he approached. From his shoulders to the way his jaw was set, Bobby could tell he was uncomfortable. On one hand, it frustrated him, because to his knowledge he hadn't really done anything that would make the kid think he would hurt him. On the other hand, he was also frustrated enough not to care, because it was too hard to calculate every move to not scare this kid. Besides, Jack who had said he wanted to see it. He wasn't forcing him.

He picked Jack up under his arms effortlessly and turned him to face the display case, holding him against his chest with one arm. "See?" He pointed to the picture in the middle of the case. He tried to ignore that he could feel Jack's heart racing against his arm over his chest. What was so stressful?

"Y-you're in the middle," Jack said tentatively.

"Yeah, I don't look much different, do I?"

"No," Jack admitted.

"You recognize the guy next to me?"

"No."

Bobby felt Jack start to squirm and let him slide down to the floor. "That's Danny," he said. "You know him."

"Yeah." Jack nodded. It was because of Danny he had his guitar. "My guitar."

"Exactly." Bobby smiled. "Speaking of which... If memory serves me correctly, let's take a small detour..." He started to walk and glanced behind him to make sure Jack was following. "If we turn here..." he made another right down a shorter hall, "then the first door should be... Bingo." He looked in at the old band room from his memory.

The room was empty of people, but full of instruments. Lined against one wall were cases that housed guitars, clarinets, and saxophones. Another wall had drums, cymbals, bells, and xylophones. Across on the other side of the room were smaller cases for flutes and piccolos.

He glanced at Jack. His eyes were scanning the room, from one corner to another. He suddenly seemed... calm.

"What is this?" Jack asked.

"Band. Another type of geek squad," Bobby responded. He took a step inside and reached over to the wall to flip on the light switch. The fluorescent lights hummed on and brightened the space. "Didn't your old school have a band?"

"I don't know," Jack said. "Not like this."

Bobby paused and then an idea crossed his mind. "You want to stay here?" Bobby offered. "While I do this boring stuff?" He held up the folder of documents.

Jack looked at him with a surprised expression. "Yes," he said quickly, as though the offer would be taken off the table if he hesitated.

"Alright," Bobby agreed. He glanced around the room again. "I never spent much time in here. Just, you know, don't break anything. And... Just stay here, okay?"

Jack had already wondered inside and was heading towards a keyboard. Bobby wondered that he didn't go to the guitar. I guess he has one at home now, he thought to himself.

"Jack," he said more firmly.

Jack froze and looked back at him, just inches from the keyboard. "I won't touch it," he said.

"Just listen for a minute," Bobby persisted. "Don't go anywhere. If you're not here when I get back, then you're going to be sorry when I find you, got it? None of that disappearing bullshit."

Jack just stared at him.

"Respond, Jack," Bobby said stiffly. "Or else you're coming with me now."

"Okay," Jack said.

"So you'll be here when I get back?" Bobby continued.

"Yes."

"Alright. That better be the case. I shouldn't be long." Bobby gave him one last reluctant look, wondering if leaving the kid alone was a bad 'parenting' idea, and then decided that at eleven years old, he had been pretty independent himself. The worst that could happen was something breaking, and having observed Jack's reverence of musical instruments to date, doubted that was likely.

He walked back toward the administrative office with a sigh.

* * *

Jack tentatively pressed his finger against the keys of the keyboard.

Nothing happened.

He frowned at it, confused. It looked like a piano but with a lot more buttons and and knobs and levers. His eyes scanned the lot of them, wondering what half of them did, and finally noticed a power button. He pressed it and it glowed red.

He gently pushed down on a key again.

This time a loud organ sound came out of the speakers of the machine, causing him to jump back, startled. He looked up at the doorway of the room cautiously, half expecting someone to be there to berate him for making noise or touching the instruments.

No one was there.

His heart pounded in his chest and he swallowed. Why did he feel like he shouldn't be there? Bobby told him to stay here. That implied he could touch the instruments. Didn't it?After all, Bobby hadn't responded to him about touching the keyboard. Should he have asked?

It was too late now.

Scanning the buttons and functions of the keyboard again, he this time noticed a few more details. One was a dial that let you change the sound of keyboard. There was organ, piano, flute, percussion, and more. He turned it back to piano.

The next thing he noticed was a volume dial. He turned that one down.

He pressed the key again, and finally heard the sound he expected from a machine that looked like a piano. He smiled briefly.

He knew the basics of using a piano. There was one beat up one in his old house. He was never allowed to play if anyone else was home, but he was alone enough to spend some time with it. Even so, there was always the fear of getting caught. 'Who the hell do you think you are? Beethoven?' Kevin always said when he found him trying to play, before yanking him off the piano bench and pushing him out of the room. One time Kevin had caught him off guard when he came home earlier than normal. He had shut the piano's lid right onto his fingers before he could even hear him coming. For days Jack thought one of his fingers was broken. Another time he had threatened to burn the piano, and the house with it, in one drunken fit of rage, but Jack remembered him saying that the ugly, beat-up piano had belonged to his grandmother. It was perhaps some twisted sense of nostalgia that kept the piano in one piece.

He realized the piano made him think of Kevin and shuddered.

He looked down at his hands. Then he turned his head to look around the room, suddenly uneasy. He looked at the doorway again, then at the windows behind him. The school was quiet which he found comforting and terrifying at the same time.

He turned back to the piano, trying to ignore the sudden sense that someone was watching him. He put both hands on the keys and slowly tried to remember a melody his mother once taught him.

* * *

Angel was surprised when he saw Jerry showed up at the auto repair shop that he worked.

"Want to get lunch?" Jerry asked when he located him, hands covered in oil and head ducked below the hood of an old Chevy.

Angel backed out from under the hood of the car and straightened his posture. He wiped his hands across the front of his already dirty coveralls and shook his head. "Man, I'm working."

"I know. It's one of the few times I know where to find you," Jerry responded. "And I know you get a lunch break."

Angel eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, but-"

"And I know you didn't already get lunch," Jerry interjected. "It's barely noon."

Angel's eyes glanced over at the large clock on the wall - the one he found himself looking at fifty times a day. "Fine. Let me tell the boss."

"Don't have to be long," Jerry continued. "We can go to that deli on the corner."

"Still have to tell the boss..." Angel muttered.

Jerry watched his brother disappear from the garage and waited patiently. Angel was different recently. More reserved, more defensive. Lashing out more. It was more enhanced with Bobby home, but still Jerry didn't believe that to be a direct correlation. It wasn't like he hadn't been acting this way before Bobby came home.

"Okay, let's go," Angel said as he returned to the garage. "I've got forty-five minutes."

"What happened to lunch 'hour'?" Jerry smirked.

Angel rolled his eyes. "I was a little late this morning."

"Surprise, surprise."

"Whatever..." Angel started to walk towards the exit.

"You gonna wear that?"

Angel turned. "This?" He looked down at the dirty coveralls. "Yeah, so? What is this a fashion show? Trust me, the places around here are used to us walking in looking like this. I'll wash my hands."

Jerry laughed. "Alright."

Ten minutes later, they were sitting a small table inside the deli on the corner, two hero sandwiches in front of them. They ate without speaking for several minutes, until Angel finally broke the silence.

"So," he began. "Ain't you gonna say something?"

"Like what?" Jerry swallowed a large bite of the sandwich.

"I don't know." Angel looked up at him critically. "You came all the way over here for something."

"Can't I have lunch with my brother without a hidden agenda?"

"Usually not," Angel responded.

Jerry laughed. "True. Alright. Well, since you brought it up, I just wanted to see what was going on with you recently... I'm not kidding when I saw the few times I know where you are is when you're at work."

"Yeah, well... I'm busy." Angel shrugged.

"With?"

"School starts up again soon. I gotta make the most of my summer."

"Yeah, but what does that mean? What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

Jerry raised his eyebrows. "Okay."

"Well, what do you want to hear?" Angel began defensively. "I've got friends, Jer. It's like you think I should sit home and do nothing."

"Considering the trouble you start at home..."

"What trouble?"

Jerry laughed. "Like trying to scare Jack..."

"He's scared of his own shadow."

"You don't have to add to it... He's still new."

"So?"

"So? So Bobby's gonna kick your ass if you keep it up."

"I'm avoiding Bobby."

"No kidding. You think he doesn't notice?"

"He's never home for long anyway," Angel answered. "Then by the time he comes back again, he won't even remember."

"Is that what your plan is?"

Angel shrugged.

"Listen, Angel," Jerry responded. "I don't think Bobby's going away so quick this time."

"Why? Because of the kid?"

"Ma wants him around to help out."

"If she's so busy, then why did she agree to take in Jack?" Angel answered.

"She's not too busy for us... But it helps to have another set of hands around the house..." Jerry made a face. "Besides, I happen to like when Bobby's around."

"Because he doesn't boss you around. He saves all that for me."

"You seem to go out of your way to piss him off sometimes, Ang."

"Whatever. I have twenty minutes more of a lunch break, and this is what you wanna talk about?"

"You have to see him eventually. Just letting you know."

"I don't 'have' to do anything."

"You can't spend every minute with Sofie."

"Sure, I can."

"Listen, bro... We can talk in circles. But I basically came here to tell you this: snap out of whatever funk you're in. Stop pretending Bobby's the bad guy. He's-"

"I never said he was the bad guy."

"Not in words."

"I'm just tired of him acting like he's my father."

"He's not. He's your brother. Respect him."

"Whatever, dude. I'd rather just stay out of the way."

Jerry rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he repeated. He sighed. He wasn't going to start a fight. That wasn't the point of coming here to talk to him. "Just snap out of it," he said again, more gently this time. "And give Jack a break. He's a little kid."

"He and I get along better than you think."

"I hope so."

"Quit with the lecturing, Jer," Angel complained.

"Or what? You'll start avoiding me too?"

"Just shut up and eat."

Jerry laughed. "That I can do..."

* * *

Not so hard... Bobby was thinking as he watched the woman behind the desk in the administration office of the elementary school. Pamela. She reminded him of someone's grandmother, with a frumpy sweater, curly graying brown hair, and a shiny pin of an apple on her collar. She was making photocopies of the documents he bought. Fifteen minutes and it seemed they were close to done.

"What about classes?" he asked.

"Classes?" Pamela looked up from the copy machine and adjusted her glasses. "What do you mean?"

"Picking classes."

"Oh. Well... The classes are pretty standard at his age..." she began. "Unless there's some remedial classes that are needed, or honors, then it's a fairly consistent set of courses for the kids. Math, English, Science."

"But what about things like music?" Bobby asked. "He likes music."

"They will be exposed to music," she answered. She lifted the cover of the machine to place another document underneath.

"Yeah, but he really likes music."

She looked up and smiled. "Okay. I'll make a note in his file."

"Thanks." Bobby paused. "What about security?"

"Security?" She gathered the papers back into a pile, and then picked up the copies from the copy machine tray. She walked back over to the counter and handed the originals back to him. "Here you go."

"Security like... security," Bobby continued.

"The kids are safe here," she said. "We've never had any incidents. And there is constant supervision, so the altercations we have between the kids are minimal. We have a great record actually; especially compared to some other schools in the area."

"What about strangers coming onto the school property?"

She shook her head. "We have a closed campus. There are cameras. We also have two security guards during the day that patrol the grounds to ensure that there is no suspicious activity. We take the kids' safety very seriously."

"And what about someone coming to take the kids home early?"

"Only if we have your information on record can you leave the school with one of the children," she said. "We take our policies very seriously." She smiled. "You're a very concerned big brother, I can tell."

"Just want to make sure it's safe here for him. Thanks." Despite hearing answers that you would hope to hear, it was also expected. Bobby didn't find himself feeling at ease. He remembered attending the school, and the freedom he and his friends enjoyed, despite the school's pretention of otherwise. Then again, he'd been that kind of kid. Yet Jack was 'that kind of kid' too, in a way.

"I think we're all set." She smiled. "Can I meet the young man? You said he was just in the band room?"

"Sure," Bobby answered. "Yeah. Like I said, the kid loves music."

"We normally don't let kids in there unsupervised," she teased with a smile. "But from what I've been hearing, I'm sure he's taking very good care of our instruments."

Bobby hoped so. He walked out of the office with Pamela, and politely answered some of her questions about when he had gone to the school. It felt like ages and ages ago. Since when was he old? But it really felt like a different lifetime.

They reached the band room and walked into the room.

It appeared empty.

Fuck, Bobby thought to himself. Can this kid just not be trusted? His stomach turned briefly, and anxiety quickly mixed with annoyance. He took a deep breath. Don't jump to conclusions, he reminded himself.

"Jack," he said out loud. This is going to be embarrassing if he's not here, he thought, glancing at Pamela.

Fortunately, he did not have to worry. From behind a large book shelf, Jack suddenly appeared.

Thank God.

"Jack, this is Pamela," he said, gesturing to the woman next to him.

Jack eyed them both without much emotion.

"Hi, sweetheart," Pamela greeted. "Your brother told me all about you. I know you're going to love going to school here."

Jack eyed Bobby, as if wondering what 'all about you' meant.

"I'm sure he will... Well, we should get going," Bobby said, meeting Jack's eye. He could tell the kid felt uncomfortable with two pairs of eyes on him. "You ready to go, Jack?"

Jack nodded.

"Good. C'mon." Bobby motioned for him to come and started to walk out the door, Pamela at his side.

"It was nice meeting you," Pamela said. "School will be here before we know it."

Bobby smiled and shook her hand. As she headed back towards the office, he poked his head back into the band room. "Jack. Come on. Let's go."

Jack walked towards him slowly, glancing back at the room behind him, as though nervous he would never see the room again.

"Come on," Bobby persisted. "And were you hiding?"

"No." Jack frowned. He wasn't going to tell Bobby that he had been afraid because he felt like someone else was watching him. He would probably just make fun of him or get angry about it or tell him it was stupid.

"I thought I was going to have to fucking look for you," Bobby said, touching his shoulder as Jack reached him. Jack flinched from the contact. "Don't hide."

"I wasn't," Jack insisted.

"Okay." Bobby gently hit him with the folder of documents. "I have one more place we need to stop and then we can go home."

"Where else do we need to go?" Jack asked.

"Just a quick stop."

* * *

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

One more stop. Then home.

Jack repeated Bobby's words in his head as they drove silently, the radio playing just loudly enough to avoid awkward silence. He stared at the window, watching street after street pass. He had no idea where they were headed and Bobby hadn't offered much of a hint.

Not that he cared.

One more stop. Then home.

'Home'. Jack thought about the word. What exactly did home mean?

He had been in such a mixed handful of houses, apartments, and group homes in the past year and a half that he didn't know exactly how to define it. He briefly recalled one chain-smoking lady that had a stained needlepoint pillow on her couch with the phrase 'home is where the heart is'. He had seen this phrase before, and also didn't know what it meant. Whose heart? And was it like a real heart? A beating heart? Or someone dead's heart? There had been a picture of a heart on the pillow. Maybe that was the heart.

Lots of people used the word 'home' so vaguely. It was more like an expression.

'This is your new home', Anthony had told him when he left him at the Mercer's house. He'd also said that to him many other times before. New home. Last home. That home. Yeah. Right.

He thought about his first night in the Mercer house, and the anxiety he felt. It was a little better now, or at least different. That anxiety wasn't all the time - but it still wasn't what he would define as home. Then again, he had already admitted to himself that he didn't even really know what home meant. That first night, he didn't know if he could trust them, nor what would happen over the next twenty-four hours. He was a little less worried about that. Or maybe distracted. He had other fears now. He was more worried about what and who might be around the house, and the fact his past was never far away. Regardless of a change in 'home'.

You can't change who you are, he decided. And you can't change what happened to you. Or what will happen.

Someone told him about fate once. Maybe it would all happen like it was meant to regardless of what he tried to avoid.

Maybe he was just unlucky. Anthony had called him unlucky once.

That first night in the house, with all the anxiety, he also tried to leave. Thinking back, he wasn't really sure where he would have gone. Even now, he still didn't know the area well, despite a few explorations under his belt. And at night... That was different. Things hid in the dark.

He thought about his first meeting with Bobby.

"I stayed a week," Jack spoke up.

Bobby glanced over at him, letting his eyes drift from the road for a moment. It wasn't often the kid spoke. And it had been so quiet the last ten minutes that it caught him off guard. "Huh?"

"I stayed a week," Jack repeated.

"What do you mean?" Bobby returned his eyes to the road and eyed the stop sign he was approaching. "You mean with us? Yeah, you did. It's been more than a week, kid." Maybe the kid had erased some of the time from his mind. He wouldn't blame him. In fact, he wished they could go back to that first week so he could change some things.

"So I finished our deal."

"What deal?"

"Our deal," Jack persisted.

Bobby frowned, trying to understand the kid's words. The one time he starts being talkative and he talks in code, he thought to himself in amusement.

Then it hit him. "Our deal," he repeated. "We made a deal that you would give it a week. That you would give us a chance."

"Yes."

Bobby paused. "And?"

"I dunno..." Jack shrugged. "Just that the week is over now."

"So..." Bobby began slowly. "You thinking of trying to go somewhere else now? Is that what you're saying?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't really get a choice, do I?"

"We can make a new deal."

"No."

Bobby noticed how quickly Jack responded and wondered what was going through his mind. "If you're talking about running again... You know I'm faster than you, and you would have no idea where you're going."

Jack stayed quiet for a minute.

"Like the brilliant idea you had on your first day in the middle of the night?" Bobby persisted. "Trust me, Jackie. You wouldn't make it far,"

"Because of him?"

"Who?" Bobby glanced at Jack again and then realized what he meant. Kevin. Because of Kevin. He thought he meant he wouldn't make it far because of him. "No. Not because of him, Jack. Listen. I told you, he's still-"

"I don't believe you."

"Jackie. I-"

"I. Don't. Believe. You." Jack's tone grew more adamant.

"I don't lie," Bobby said stiffly. "Fuck, Jack. I might be an asshole, but I ain't a liar." His irritation returned. That fucking dipshit Angel.

Jack didn't respond, his head now turned away to look out the passenger side window.

"Listen, and listen good," Bobby continued. "We already had this conversation. I don't know why Angel was fucking you. I really don't. For whatever reason, he was. But that's one thing I feel strongly about - lying. No. Not to family. I don't tolerate it."

"I'm not your family," Jack muttered.

"Well, whether you like it or not, you are now. Get used to it."

"I've heard that before."

"Maybe you have. But with family, you gotta be truthful. If someone lies to me, I will find out."

Jack paused. "But there are good lies."

"Never."

"Yes, there are," Jack said. "Anthony says there are."

"Well, then, I don't think I like this Anthony guy."

Bobby took a deep breath. As the conversation progressed, and they neared his 'one last stop', Bobby started to feel a little tentative about his decision to make the stop at all.

Jack remained quiet now and swallowed back the uncertainty he felt.

'You wouldn't make it far.'

He didn't know who to believe. All he knew was that he could only trust himself. Someone else had told him that once before. They said that was the only true piece of advice they could ever give. He'd heard a lot of people say 'trust me' before, only to have them turn around and hurt him like everyone else.

He didn't know why he even brought back up the deal they made his first night. It had been over a week anyway. A month now. But he did think about going somewhere else. After all, Kevin knew where he was. And if Angel was right, then it would never be safe anyway. And the only way to make somewhere else safe was to make sure no one else knew where he went.

It made him angry when Bobby said he wouldn't make it far. What did he know? Besides, little did they know he had the means to make it. The Mercers were sloppy with their spare change. All you had to do was keep an eye out, and quarters and dollars would eventually sit neglected on the counter and under laundry. Each time he noticed a small amount, he found a way to make it into his stash under his mattress.

Jack thought back to the room at the school with all the instruments. He wondered if he would ever be able to go in that room again.

If only there was a place like that as 'home' that no one else knew about.

At that moment, Jack looked up, and suddenly realized where they were.

This street was really familiar.

They pulled up to the intersection as the light turned red and Bobby stopped.

Jack turned his head to view the street to the right and that's where he saw the sign. He gasped.

The motel.

_The _motel.

He felt frozen. Why were they here?

Bobby was looking at him now. He immediately noticed the look on Jack's face and then followed his gaze to see where he was looking. He swallowed and suddenly realized his gut trepidation had been right. This wasn't the right time to do this.

"Look, Jack," he began. "We only need to stop here for a minute. I didn't wanna tell you because... You know. But I only need to-"

"Why are we here?" Jack demanded. His voice wavered. "Why? Is he here?"

"No, he's not," Bobby responded, slightly frustrated. He looked ahead once more briefly to check on the light. "Look, I'm sorry to take you back here, but I just need to see if Jenna is here and find out what she-" He cut himself off as he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Before he could react, Jack had opened the car door and was quickly slipping out of the vehicle.

Bobby reached over to grab him with haste, but it was too late. The kid was gone, leaving the door hanging open. "Jack!" Bobby barked.

He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel in anger. "Fuck," he snapped at himself. "Fuck!" He quickly put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt to lean across the passenger side, stretching until he could reach the door and pull it shut.

A car honked behind him. He realized the light was green.

He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Fuck you!" he retorted to the honking as he put the car back in drive. He started to edge forward as he looked in his mirrors, trying to locate Jack. In the distance, up ahead, he could see him running down the sidewalk.

"God dammit..."

* * *

TBC

A huge **Thank You** to all the commenters so far. I really appreciate the feedback and the support. I'm sorry for the infrequent updates. I love writing but life often gets in the way nowadays.


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